


Ofdensen, Interrupted

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Office, Porn Video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan wants Charles to take a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ofdensen, Interrupted

Charles Ofdensen was a workaholic. This was unsurprising, considering the scope of everything he did to keep Dethklok alive and running, both as a business empire and simply in terms of the boys' respective livelihoods - it was a full-time job, and he had certainly sacrificed things in order to do it effectively. That the band did not seem to understand his position beyond that of a "robot butler" was beside the point; Charles knew a certain amount of secrecy was required to keep them safe, and so he was nominally happy to endure their collective disrespect.

After all, he knew the man-children making up the band would not be able to hand the truth, were he to ever tell him. That was, of course, assuming they would fully understand the truth, and the ramifications thereof. Still, he couldn’t help rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh whenever one of them mistook him for an actual robot butler and asked him to clean up their broken beer bottles or vomit. Luckily, that’s what Klokateers were for.

Charles' schedule tended to follow a similar routine: He woke up early, if he'd bothered going to sleep, and worked out rigorously for the first time that day. He took his coffee while beginning the onslaught of paperwork and phone calls that he had to deal with, and sometimes a small breakfast if he was so inclined. He knew full well that the boys never woke up before at least noon, and so any attempts at interaction with them prior to this were out of the question. In point of fact, they rarely showed much in the way of energy until late afternoon or early evening. Charles had, ergo, learned to maximize his time not spent on robot butler duties, and whatever else Dethklok decided they needed him for.

It was this rationale that led to some shock when Nathan bounded into his office on a weekday, only scant hours into the morning. He looked clean enough, which meant he hadn't just stumbled back to Mordhaus after a night of heavy partying.

Though bewildered, Charles' expression was stoic as ever. "Hello, Nathan," he greeted, barely looking up from his computer. "What can I do for you?"

Nathan squinted at the immediate surroundings, as if vaguely allergic to sunlight. "'s sunny in here," he grunted.

"Yes. It's daylight."

"Hmm." Nathan's gaze fell upon him. "You're up early."

Charles polished off an e-mail and hit 'send', enjoying the small feeling of satisfaction that came with it. "I'm always up this early," he told the front man patiently. He decided he would wait for Nathan to simply tell him what he wanted - it was usually easiest that way to get a coherent answer. In the meantime, he hit 'reply' on yet another message in his inbox and began typing a response.

He didn't see Nathan's scowl deepen. "Aren't you ever like, done?" he frowned.

"What do you mean?" Charles bit his lip a bit as he parsed out a tricky bit of wording in his written response to a bid for a front-page magazine spread of the band.

Nathan crossed his arms. "Like, don't you ever take a break? Like, ever?"

Charles looked up from his email and quirked an eyebrow. He was tempted to ask Nathan if he had any idea what went into running a multi-billion dollar musical empire, but quickly decided that, no, Nathan did not. “There’s a lot to do every day,” he said instead with a mild shrug.

“So?” Nathan countered. “Breaks are good.” He settled his considerable frame on the edge of Charles’ desk and tried to peer over the computer monitor. “Is that about us?” he asked.

Charles minimized the window; having someone read over his shoulder made working nearly impossible. “Everything is about you,” he replied.

“Cool.” Still, Nathan craned his neck to read over Charles' shoulder. Eventually, he walked around the desk to stand behind Charles' chair; the CFO could feel Nathan's large fingers toying with the back; occasionally, a fingertip would brush against the back of his neck. "Stocks .... spreadsheet ... whoa, what's that site?" Nathan gawked. Charles knew it was useless to tell him not to touch the computer screen, but suppressed a sigh when Nathan left a smudge. "What is that?" Nathan asked again.

Charles obediently maximized the window. Splashed across the front page was a photo-manipulation of Nathan himself. The source model was very well-endowed, and the pose he was in indicated that he knew that. "XXX Metal," Nathan read slowly. He blinked. "Hey, that's me," he suddenly realized aloud. He glanced at Charles. "You're looking at porn? Of me?"

Charles resisted the urge to rub his temples. "There's a lawsuit currently embroiling with a number of similar Web sites. I was ... checking them out and taking some notes to make a case against them." He knew how flimsy that sounded. Unfortunately, Nathan did too.

"C'mon, Ofdensen, you know you don't have to go looking for Internet porn of me. You've got the real thing right here. The real Nathan Explosion. Me." This time, Charles did roll his eyes. He saw Nathan frown anew. "So your big business meeting for the day was looking at naked photos of me on your computer?"

"No," Charles responded patiently. "It's a very small portion of a very busy day." He minimized the screen anew, and then reached across the desk to pick up his phone. "I'll talk to you later, Nathan, okay?"

With a furrowed brow, Nathan slammed one meaty finger on the receiver. "I'm here now," he said.

Charles sighed and moved Nathan's finger away from the phone. "And I have a few phone calls to make about your band," he said. "I'll come find you when I'm done, if you want." It wasn't as though he didn't like to talk to Nathan, of course, but there was a limited window of time in the day to do most of his work.

"But I'm here. Now," Nathan repeated. "Your phone will be here later." He gave what Charles assumed was supposed to be his most menacing look. "Talk to me now."

Charles set the receiver down, realizing he wasn't going to make any progress for the time being. "Okay, Nathan," he said placatingly. "What would you like to talk about?" He had a hunch Nathan didn't actually have a conversation topic in mind.

Sure enough, the front man just blinked at him for a moment. "Uh," Nathan said, as if surprised Charles had called his bluff. "So. Uh, is there porn of just me?" he asked after a moment. "Or is there, like, the other guys too? Like, even Toki?"

Charles managed not to laugh. "That's what I'm trying to ascertain, Nathan," he offered. "Whether or not they can be sued for libel or slander."

"So like, what if we made our own porn?" Nathan mused. "Could somebody sue us?"

Charles blinked. "If it's, er, pornographic material of yourselves, I don't see how they could," he said honestly. He cleared his throat. "However, I happen to think that there is such a thing as negative publicity, and-"

"Do you watch porn?"

"Nathan, really, I have a rather large to-do list, and-"

"See, that could be your lead-in," Nathan rumbled. He took Charles' glasses off of the CFO's face suddenly and slid them on his own. "'I'm Dethklok's manager,'" he said in the high-pitched mimicry that he'd perfected at numerous group dinners. "'I have a LONG to-do list. I REALLY like paperwork.'"

"That is a terrible impression of me," Charles frowned.

Nathan scowled. "No it's not. Everyone thinks it's hilarious." Charles didn't doubt that - "everyone" being the rest of the band, who had the collective mentality of a twelve-year-old. "Anyway," Nathan hurried to add, waving a hand, "that's your lead-in. And then, you know, like, you get interrupted or whatever and you're like 'Oh, no, Nathan, my work is so HARD' and..." He paused, tilted his head. "How can you wear these? I can't see a fucking thing." He flung the glasses back at Charles.

"That's the point, Nathan," Charles replied, affixing the eyewear back on the bridge of his nose. "Now, if there isn't anything more pressing..."

"That's a good line, too," Nathan informed him.

"If that's everything," Charles said again, teeth bared a bit, "Then I need to get back to work." Abruptly, he turned back to his aborted phone call. Just as angrily, Nathan shoved Charles' hand away from the receiver. "What do you WANT, Nathan?" Charles asked, fully exasperated. "This is your livelihood I'm concerned with, in case you haven't noticed." He knew it was fruitless to speak that way to any of the boys - like small children, they tended to react by throwing a tantrum.

Sure enough, Charles suddenly found himself spun around to face the front man, Nathan's hands gripping either side of Charles' chair. "I WANT you to chill the fuck out, Ofdensen," he snarled, anger not completely disguising the fact that he'd only ever wanted Charles to pay attention to him. "You still work for us, even if you know more than we do."

Charles let out a small breath. "I know that, Nathan," he conceded. "I'm sorry that I upset you." He made a point to meet Nathan's gaze with his own. Nathan still held onto Charles' chair arms, but he wavered a little.

"Your eyes are like ... they're brown, but not all brown."

"Ah." Charles didn't know what to say to that. He also didn't know what to say when Nathan started fiddling with his tie, in the same entitled fashion with which he'd calmly removed Charles' glasses and tried them on. "What are you doing?" he finally settled on.

The corner of Nathan's tongue peeked out of his mouth. "I'm just ... tryin' somethin'," he murmured, his attention now refocused.

Charles frowned slightly, the intent look on Nathan's face making him slightly nervous. He could defend himself physically, of course, but he wasn't exactly certain what was going through Nathan's mind. Uncertainty was something Charles Ofdensen was not fond of. "Trying what?" he asked, firmly.

Nathan loosened the tie even further so that it could be easily slipped over Charles' head. "'Kay," the front man said, seemingly pleased with himself. Before Charles could fully react, Nathan grabbed his wrist and slid it into the loop in the still-knotted tie, tightening the loop with a quick tug.

"Nathan, I don't have time for this," Charles admonished as Nathan wrapped the rest of the tie around his other wrist. "Please stop." He jerked his chin towards the now-ringing phone. "I need to take that call."

Nathan wrapped one hand around the loose tie-ends and activated the speakerphone with the other. "Take the call, then."

Charles glowered. He glanced at the caller ID and cleared his throat. "Marty, how's it going?" he called out, feeling very foolish. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nathan grinning. Under the desk, he began fumbling with the knot Nathan had used to tied his wrists together. He almost had it, and then he heard Nathan snort, "No, you don't," in his ear.

"- concert insurance renewal benefits have changed," Marty droned, in the usual manner of insurance agents. Charles tried to pay attention, but was more concerned about the fact that Nathan was now tying each wrist to a chair arm.

Eventually, Nathan seemed to realize that the tie material wouldn't stretch to accommodate both arms, and began rooting around in Charles' desk drawers. "Gotta be here ..." he murmured. His grip on Charles' unfastened wrist was tight almost to the point of painful.

"What was that, Charles?" Marty asked.

Charles sighed. "Nothing, Marty, that was just Nathan Explosion. He's uh, in my office. For a meeting."

"How's it going?" Nathan said in his mimicry voice. Charles rolled his eyes.

"Pleasure, Nathan," Marty replied smarmily. Nathan just smirked towards the phone. "Now, Charles, I would be remiss if I didn't remind you that in order to achieve the level of coverage needed for..."

But Charles couldn't quite hear what coverage was needed, because Nathan had emerged from his desk drawer with one of his spare ties, straightening slightly with a triumphant grunt. "Nathan, please," Charles hissed.

Nathan merely smirked and began to loop the second tie around the arm of the chair, and Charles' wrist. "Don't mind me," he replied.

Marty stopped in mid-sentence. "Was that Nathan again?" he asked, sounding vaguely aggrieved at being interrupted.

Charles winced as the second tie-restraint bit into his wrist. "Yes, it was," he replied, his voice slightly clipped. "Sorry, Marty. I, ah-"

"Yeah, sorry, Marty, he's gonna have to call you back," Nathan cut in. Then he cut the connection.

Charles sighed. "You don't want me to get anything done today, do you?" He glared at the other man, who was rummaging around anew in his desk drawers.

"Hmm. Nope," Nathan responded. He pulled a couple of heavy-duty paper clips from one of the top drawers and snapped them a few times between his large fingers. "What are these?" he snickered. "Nipple clamps?"

"I should hope not," Charles deadpanned.

Nathan gave a small, lopsided smirk and reached forward to pull open Charles' shirt, his suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair. Instinctively, Charles snapped his hands up, but found that Nathan's knot-tying skills were far superior than he'd expected. Nathan thumbed Charles nipples for a moment, and then licked the paperclips.

"That is completely unhygienic," Charles pointed out, uselessly, as Nathan clipped them on. They were not as painful as Charles had expected, but they were still very uncomfortable, especially when Nathan began to twist slightly. "Is there a point to this?"

Nathan shrugged. "Not really," he offered. His gaze met Charles'. "Do they hurt?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little," Charles winced.

"Oh, sorry." Nathan removed the clips anew with surprising gentleness. Then he thumbed the now-hardened nubs on Charles' chest. The feeling went straight to the CFO's groin. He must have been making a face approximating as much, because Nathan snickered at him.

"What?" Charles panted, trying his best to sound aggrieved.

"It's funny to watch you like, try not to have feelings or something," Nathan smirked, still toying with Charles' nipples. Without warning, he grabbed and twisted them slightly in his fingers. "See, I did that and you almost went cross-eyed," Nathan told him. Then the phone rang.

“Nathan,” Charles said, struggling not to gasp as Nathan’s fingers continued their ministrations. “Nathan, please, I need to get back to work now.” He had no doubt, though, that the front man would be having none of it.

Sure enough, Nathan turned the phone’s speaker option on and in the same silly, high-pitched voice said, “You’ve reaching the office of Charles Ofdensen. He is busy being fondled right now, but will call you back as soon as he can.” Then, as an afterthought, “BEEP.”

Charles closed his eyes, partially in exasperation, partially to keep Nathan from seeing in his eyes the effect the sensations were having on him. “That was incredibly unprofessional,” he informed Nathan. “This is your band I’m trying to do work for, you know.”

"Yeah, that's cool. Hey, is your dick getting hard?" Nathan asked, completely ignoring that he'd just hung up on a Gibson rep. He gave Charles' nipples another tug, and then one hand moved to grope at him between his legs. "Guess so," he grinned. "So you like this, huh?"

Charles vacillated sharply. "Nathan, please untie me. Now. Please. Now."

"Hmm." To his credit, the front man appeared to consider this. Finally, he shook his head. "Nope."

Charles sighed. "Why not?"

"'Cause," Nathan answered, mysteriously brief, as always. He continued rubbing Charles' cock through his pants. "So when you watch porn of us, does your dick get hard, too?" he asked.

"I wasn't watching it for ... that," Charles blanched. "It was a purely legal interest, Nathan."

"Hmm. Really?" Nathan asked, eyebrow raised.

"Really."

Nathan began unzipping Charles' pants. "Really really?"

Charles squirmed. "Really really," he repeated, shifting in his seat as Nathan's surprisingly warm hand ghosted over his cock.

"You can do research and still get hard," Nathan pointed out, slowly drawing Charles' dick out of his pants and rubbing a thumb over the head. Charles shivered, full-body, not even trying to hide his response this time. Nathan knew he was getting a response, knew he had Charles' full attention.

"I suppose you have a p-point," Charles gasped, not entirely ready to admit that Nathan was, as usual, more perceptive than others gave him credit for being. When he stopped playing with Charles' cock, it took everything in the CFO not to protest. Then Nathan began fiddling with his computer, pulling up windows and haphazardly minimizing and closing others with little regard for their importance, and he regained his bearings a bit. "Nathan, will you untie me now, please?" he asked.

Nathan merely grunted at him absently, engrossed in snooping around Charles' desktop. "Nope," he finally answered. "Can't." His tongue was peeking out of the corner of his mouth again. "Lookin' for something."

"Looking for what?"

Finally, Nathan maximized the tab loaded with one of the porn much-sought-after porn sites. "Looking for this," he rumbled. The phone rang again; without warning, Nathan yanked on a cord - the ringing abated. Charles sighed.

Nathan clicked around on the site for a moment until he came across a photo manipulation of himself in hardcore bondage gear, hair blowing back as though a fan were set up somewhere behind the camera. "Huh," he grunted.

"Like I said," Charles replied, trying not to look directly at the image lest his body betray his true feelings on the matter, "this website is using your likeness for profit without our permission. I was merely seeing how extensive the collection is."

"Extensive," Nathan said, reaching back and stroking Charles' cock a few times, playfully, teasingly. "I'll bet." With his free hand, he maneuvered further around the site. "There's videos," he announced, and then clicked on one. The model appeared to be yet another Nathan Explosion look-alike; this time, he was being blown by a young blonde woman wearing a studded collar. Charles tried to ignore it, but the tell-tale sounds made him reluctantly watch the blowjob play out.

"That's pretty hot," Nathan offered. His hand rested on Charles' knee; Charles realized then that this was an intentional placement. "It's hot," Nathan repeated. Then they both looked down at Charles' lap, as if it had a suitable retort.

"Nathan, I, I need you to untie me, please," Charles managed through deep, steadying breaths. "I need you to let me go. Please."

"Why?" Nathan asked, intentionally obtuse. The video clip ended. The front man clicked on another one, and gave Charles' cock an experimental squeeze while it buffered. "You don't think I've seen a dick before? I live with Murderface."

"It's not that," Charles meted out. "I just ... I'm not .." The clip began to play; this time, the Nathan look-alike had yet another model bent over a table, hair splayed everywhere as he fucked her in the ass. Judging by her breathy moans, she didn't appear to mind. Charles felt his cock twitch.

"Not what?" Nathan prompted, pumping his fist up and down Charles' cock in time with the thrusts of the look-alike on the computer screen. He seemed to zone out for a moment, focused intently on the screen, and on his hand's movement.

Charles, too, found himself getting overly attentive to the scene on the computer and the sensations running up and down his spine and into his groin. It took him a long moment to remember that he was supposed to be very vehemently protesting this, and that there was still a great deal of work to do, work he was now behind on because he had allowed Nathan's dalliances.

"Not what?" Nathan repeated after a few eternal moments.

"I'm not... I'm busy, Nathan..." Charles gasped, rocking slightly in the chair as Nathan changed the momentum and pattern of his touch. "Please, Nathan."

"Please what?" Nathan was, quite literally, jacking him off, now. "You wanna come, Ofdensen? You want me to make you c- oh, hang on." The video clip had ended. Charles tried not to make his displeasure at Nathan's hand being temporarily removed from his dick known. He only somewhat succeeded.

Nathan smirked at him. "Sorry, Charlie," he offered, not sorry at all. Another video clip was loaded; a girl loudly keened and writhed as she was fucked, hard. This one was less visually interesting, the camera fixated nominally on the Nathan look-alike's own dick. "It's pretty accurate," Nathan voiced aloud, seemingly reading his thoughts. He began fiddling with his belt buckle. "Wanna see?"

Charles started to shake his head. "Nathan, no. Nathan, this is a really bad idea ..."

But Nathan had already tugged his pants down around his knees and stood, legs apart, proudly displaying his package. "See?" Nathan asked, as if Charles had the choice of looking anywhere else.

"Very accurate, yes," Charles replied, wishing Nathan would get back to touching him so he might get off and get back to work. "Now, if you would please..."

"Wanna touch it?" Nathan asked, surprising Charles.

Arching an eyebrow, Charles said, "How am I supposed to touch it with my hands tied, Nathan?" It was, he thought, a very valid question, but the answer became clearer as Nathan got closer, stroking his own quickly-hardening cock.

"With your mouth, I meant," Nathan clarified. The rest seemed to just kind of happen; Nathan thumbed his cockhead a few more times before bringing it closer. A large hand snaked around to the back of the CFO's head, stroking the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "Suck it," he whispered hoarsely. "Suck my dick, Ofdensen." Then he pressed gently on the back of Charles' head.

Carefully, Charles relaxed his jaw, allowing him to take more of Nathan's considerable length into his mouth. Much of the act was simply controlling his breathing; once Charles had that down, he was able to acquiesce to a slightly gruffer rhythm that Nathan's grunts and small thrusts seem to indicate that he preferred. The video clips seemed at least temporarily forgotten.

Eventually, Nathan fisted his hair. Their gazes met; Nathan's eyes were wide and his nostrils were slightly flared as he stared down at his manager. "So fucking hot," he breathed.

Charles could feel Nathan's cock hitting the back of his throat and swallowed, concentrating on controlling his gag reflex and breathing. "Yeah," Nathan growled, thrusting his hips forward. Charles took the invitation and began twirling his tongue around the tip of Nathan's dick. He swallowed to flex the muscles in his throat and Nathan let out a shuddery moan. "Good," he grunted. "Really good."

Charles closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand, much in the same way he focused on particularly troublesome problems he had to solve. Breathe in, breathe out, hum slightly to constrict the throat muscles and provide additional sensation, tongue swirl around the shaft and tip. Clinical and clean, but this was anything but. This was Nathan Explosion, fucking his mouth.

It was messy and a bit unkind when Nathan's hand started gripping the back of his neck. It was Nathan's way of hinting that he should have more control over the push-pull of the task at hand; as if he had a choice, Charles let it happen. Overzealously, Nathan shoved his face forward, earning him a combination gasp-choking sound reaction. "Sorry," he murmured, sounding breathless himself. He allowed Charles to rear back a little, rubbing his hand with forced gentleness through his manager's thick, short hair. It was clean-cut and concise, just like its owner. Nathan decided that he liked it.

"You're uh, good at that," he complimented gruffly. He began biting his lip; his breathing became somewhat staggered. "Gonna ... come," he sighed. He looked down and Charles looked up. "Is that ... can I?" Charles expression did not change.

Nathan took that as permission, and let the warmth that had been building overflow in a bright, busting spasm that left him breathless and Charles sputtering. Somewhat embarrassed, though not entirely sure why, Nathan extracted himself from Charles mouth. Without the ability to use his arms to get a tissue, Charles was forced to swallow the load in his mouth, which he did with a fair amount of dignity.

"So. Uh. Thanks," Nathan said, feeling suddenly awkward again, though the new sight of Charles' own hard-on certainly made him feel less so. He pushed the chair out slightly and once again grasped Charles' cock in his hand. "Looks like you didn't hate that," he pointed out, and Charles merely looked at him expectantly. Still, he gasped when Nathan - finally - fully concentrated on getting him off, his own pre-come slickening the large hand that now engulfed his cock. His thigh muscles flexed and spasmed somewhat involuntarily at the sensations derived from Nathan purposefully thumbing his dick head. He watched Charles' hands strain in their bondage and smirked.

"You're doing that like, cross-eyed thing again."

"I am not ... cross-eyed," Charles panted indignantly.

"I wonder if there's any porn of you on there," Nathan mused, gesturing towards the computer screen. "I wonder if you're cross-eyed in any of them." He made to abandon his current task in favor of searching the Web site anew. Almost involuntarily, Charles let out a pleading groan.

"Nathan ... please ..."

Nathan stared him down. "Please what?"

Charles licked his lips. It wasn't in his repertoire to beg. "Please ... get me off," he managed.

Nathan gave him a feral smile. "I mean, if you ask nicely, I guess I could," he said, feigning thoughtfulness. He twisted his hand around Charles' shaft and chuckled as Charles melted down into his chair as much as the restraints would allow. "I'll take that as asking nicely," he said and began to work more diligently towards his goal.

Charles gasped as Nathan cupped his balls and began massaging lightly, still keeping up a steady rhythm on Charles' cock. Nathan lapsed into silence as he worked, staring at Charles with an intensity that would have been mildly disturbing, had Charles not been, well, intimately acquainted with Nathan. Charles tried to ignore it, concentrating instead on the build-up of pressure and sensation in his groin. He ignored the somewhat unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth in favor of making all of the appropriate grunts and encouraging noises. He needed this, the jutting of his hips and his furious lip-biting should have indicated.

When he came, it was to an onslaught of shivers and spasms. His hands gripped the arm rests of his chair; his bottom lip was well worried between his teeth. He couldn't help but slump a little as the aftermath petered off, looking up at Nathan through what were probably surprisingly long lashes.

Nathan chuckled. "There you go," he said, and Charles couldn't tell if it was meant to be taunting or soothing. Nathan didn't seem to be worried about repercussions as he unbound Charles' wrists; on the contrary, he worked on it at a leisurely pace, eventually grabbing up one of the ties-cum-restraints-cum-ties and fumbling it into some sort of loose knot around Charles' neck.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Thank you," he offered. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Still, Nathan didn't make a point of leaving. Charles rubbed his chafed wrists a little. Then, reluctantly, he asked, "Is there anything else, Nathan?"

Nathan shrugged. "Guess not." Then he shoved a finger against Charles' computer monitor. "I don't think we should sue them," he offered with his usual roundabout manner. "It's like, an homage, or something."

"An homage," Charles repeated.

"Yeah." Nathan squinted at the screen. "Like, the guy playing me has a nice dick. So like, by association, I have a nice dick. And people who go to this site will know that."

"Ah."

"Yeah." The front man seemed to have run out of steam. "So you should probably get back to work," he suggested.

"I probably should," Charles responded swiftly. They eyed each other dubiously for several seconds. Eventually, Nathan's gaze redirected once more towards the computer screen, and then, again, briefly on Charles.

"So okay," he muttered. "So I'll see you later."

"See you later, Nathan." Charles was careful not to rush him, nor to appear too eager that he was leaving. When Nathan edged himself out of the room, however, Charles sighed a little, immediately reaching for his phone cord. He plugged it back in, and then reached into his desk for hand sanitizer and furniture wipes. A more thorough cleaning would come later. For the moment, his focus was primarily on recouping whatever time - not to mention, clients - that Nathan had effectively helped him whittle away.

The porn site was still loaded on his computer screen. Charles tilted his head, considering the pros and cons of allowing it to exist. Finally, he shrugged, bookmarked it, and then closed the window.


End file.
